


Love, Wanting, and All Things Disgusting

by Dark_Diamonds



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Arranged Marriage, Bang Chan is a Good Dad, Bang Chan is a Good Hyung, Elizabethan maybe?, Felix and Hyunjin try to be optimistic wingmen, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Insecurity, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Love at First Sight, M/M, Panic Attacks, Vague Time Period, minsung - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Diamonds/pseuds/Dark_Diamonds
Summary: Han Jisung is young, rich, and looking for love in all the wrong ways. He’s come to accept that the most he can ask for is a little attention overnight, convinced that he is undeserving of more.Lee Minho has the world at his fingertips with no one to give it to, but he dreams of a storybook romance. Romance is hard to come by though when people see you as a heartless prince.When the two are arranged to be married they find nothing they were expecting, and everything they were needing in each other.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 30
Kudos: 157





	1. Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Minsung fic and I am both nervous and excited to share it! Enjoy!

Han Jisung hated parties, he hated balls, he hated royal events, he hated all forms of large gathering where he was obligated to do the typical noble courtesies. As a viscount he was expected to make an appearance and play nice for hours on end, worse, he had to be dignified. That meant keeping a leash on his ever-running mouth (or at least trying to). Sometimes he managed, sometimes people would look at him with thinly-veiled annoyance as he droned on or got a bit too excited. So yes, he hated parties, but what he did enjoy was the night that would follow.

Whenever he was stuck at an event he made sure to scope out the attendees, and find himself an ideal ‘date’ for the night. They’d flirt, they’d give each other heated looks and grope in secret, and as the party would wind down they’d disappear for their own little after party. Jisung would allow himself to be used in any way that pleased that night’s partner, never objecting, lavishing in the attention. Because that’s what he loved, the attention, feeling like someone was fully invested in him. Even as they told him to keep his mouth shut, to not look them in the eye, not kiss them, he could pretend they were into him and not just wanting a body to warm their bed.

As he wakes in the morning the partner of the night before looks just as handsome as ever still asleep beside him, and he wonders how this one will end. How will this one push him away? He hated parties, he liked the attention, but the mornings after? They nearly broke his heart. As many times as he’d been through the same routine, it was never any less disappointing. 

Sometimes he could fool himself for a bit into thinking he’d get more than a one night fling, but by morning he always knew that wasn’t the case. Afterall, they never asked more than his name, and sometimes not even that, sometimes they didn’t want to know. As the man beside him stirred awake Jisung gave him a hopeful smile, hands stroking dark hair from his face.

“Good morning,” he said softly. The man gave a blank look in return.  
“I really enjoyed last night,” he tried again. 

He lied.

Like so many partners before him, this man had been rough, selfish, and relentless as he used the other’s body. He didn’t listen when he was asked to slow down, didn’t care if his partner got off or if he cried, he just took and took and took. Jisung’s back hurt, his hips were screaming, his throat was hoarse, and nothing felt good. He told himself he was honored, that this man had enjoyed being with him so much that he just couldn’t help it.

“Yeah.” The man shooed his hands off his face and turned away from him, leaving the bed cold and lonely.

“Yeah? Yeah... what?” He laughed nervously and winced as he sat up in the bed. 

“Look, last night was fun, but don’t act like it meant anything.” There it was.

“Well I, I uh, just thought we got along alright at the party. And that maybe you’d want to meet again? Or do this again some time?”

The way he laughed at the proposal spelled everything out clearly. Yeah, Jisung was used to being let down and told to leave, it hurt every time, but it was rare that his man of the night would be mean.

“You thought we got along? I couldn’t get you to shut the hell up all night and then once I got you in bed you were still so damned annoying. What part of any of this made you think we got along?”

“I get it, I’ll get my things and leave.”

“No, I asked you a question, what the hell makes you so bold to think I’d want to see you again?” He was leaning into Jisung’s space, taunting as he continued.  
“Because the way I see it, you should know that what we did last night, consorting with you, was beneath me.”

“Beneath you?” He couldn’t keep his voice from shaking. It was rare for them to be mean when they told him to leave, but never, NEVER, had someone been this cruel.

“Don’t act surprised. I mean, for one you’re a viscount, I’m the Marquess. Why would I associate with someone below my rank? And with all the other beautiful nobles eager to please me, why should I settle for you?” He held Jisung’s chin with one hand and scanned his face before backing away again, heading towards the wardrobe.  
“You’re not special.”

“You don’t need to be so horrible.” The viscount pulled himself from the bed, collecting his clothing and dressing as quickly as his aching body allowed.

“Oh, you wound me. Learn your place before you act so entitled, now leave.”

“Gladly.”

He didn’t cry as the carriage escorted him home, no, that would be stupid, crying over a practical stranger for saying a few unkind things. He didn’t cry as he recalled the disgust in that bastard’s eyes as he looked at Jisung’s face. He didn’t cry over being hit with everything he was insecure about. No, if anyone asked him, he didn’t cry, he’d just gotten something in his eye.

The second he arrived home to his family manor he dragged himself toward his bedroom, ready to clean the filth and memory of the night before from his skin. Jisung looked himself over in the mirror, scrubbing the remnants of makeup from his face with a soft towel. Without it he felt so plain, was this what that horrible, horrible man had seen? 

“Lord Han, you’re back!” A voice greeted through the doorway, instantly comforting the young viscount.

“Felix, good morning.” He smiled toward the servant, and it was returned ten-fold. Felix was always so sweet, he was both a welcomed and welcoming presence in the manor. He’d been Jisung’s personal attendant since the two were barely in their teens, and was one of few people he considered a friend. 

“How was your night?” He entered the bathroom and began to draw the bath, adding in the oils and salts as was routine. Jisung’s silence was answer enough. If anyone knew how badly the viscount craved attention and desired a connection, it was the ones cleaning him up after every failed attempt.   
“It’s okay! You’ll have better luck next time!” He said hopefully.

“Thanks, Felix.”

“Oh, and once you’re all washed and dressed again your parents said they have news for you. Good news!”

“Good news? What is it?”

“They didn’t tell me!” The servant whined.

“Then tell them I’ll see them for lunch.”

“Of course, enjoy your bath, Lord Han.” Felix took his leave with another smile and a short bow. 

Once he was bathed and dressed, hair still damp and face bare, the viscount made his way down to the dining room. His family was sat primly in their places, Father at the head of the table, Mother to his right, and a few covered platters laid out for them.

“Jisung, we’ve been waiting.” His mother said, not even looking up from the tea she had been stirring sugar into.

“I’m sorry.” He took his seat beside her with no further explanation.   
“Felix said you have something to tell me?”

“That we do, but let’s not rush, let’s enjoy lunch, hm?” His father gives a polite smile before they serve themselves from the platters and begin their meal in silence. His parents were quiet people, proper people, they were distant and traditional but loved him nonetheless. He knew this but it didn’t make the silence any less uncomfortable or lonely for him. He’d fidget, look around the room, clear his throat for no reason, anything to distract himself.

“Did you have a good night?” Mother asked, wiping the corner of her red-painted lips with her napkin once she had finished her meal.

“It was... alright.” His parents were aware of his activities, they weren’t fond of it, never mentioned it, but they left him to his own devices. It was odd that they ask now.

“Were you planning to see that young man again?”

“No.” He answered quickly.

“Good.” His father moved his own finished plate aside for the staff to clear away.   
“Because we have great news.”

“So I’ve heard, what is it?”

“We’ve found you a husband.” That... was certainly news. His parents had never intervened in his love life before. Never pushed him to marry, never tried to set him up with some eligible noble, nothing. So this wasn’t just sudden, it was earth-shattering. He sat wide-eyed for several moments, mouth open, unsure of how to reply to this bombshell.

“Oh?”

“A prince in fact, can you believe that? Fate must be smiling upon the Han household for us to be so fortunate.” A prince?

“Yes, that’s... unbelievable. A prince? Wow.” His heart was pounding and the air was suddenly so very thin, was this a joke? His parents chattered excitedly about wedding plans and travel arrangements, the most animated he’d ever seen them. A prince?

“May I be excused?” He pulled his chair back before he could receive an answer, shuffling to his room on autopilot. A prince?

Once he reached his room he dropped onto the bench before his vanity, hissing at the pain that tore up through him. He eyed his reflection and began to feel nauseous. Loud-mouthed, plain, not-special Viscount Han Jisung stared back. How could he possibly marry a prince? He lost track of how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts and wondering if this was really happening, before there was a frantic knock at his door.

“You can come in,” he called softly, tearing his eyes away from his reflection to watch the door swing open, two bodies storming in.

“Is it true?!” Felix was smiling so big his eyes were nearly closed as he approached the vanity.   
“The kitchen staff overheard your parents, and they told Hyunjin, and Hyunjin told me, and I cant believe it, are you really going to get married?!” The young man hopped in place, nearly squealing in glee as he awaited an answer, the aforementioned Hyunjin joining his side after closing the door behind them. 

Han nodded, trying for a smile, but not managing to make it the least bit convincing. Instantly the two staff members stilled, smiles gone.

“Are you not excited? I thought you wanted to find somebody?” Felix asked.  
“So, isn’t this a good thing?”

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about finding a match for ages, I’m surprised you’re not already packing.” Hyunjin added, eyes darting between Felix and Jisung.

“I know, I know, I should be happy, but I just...” he turned back toward the mirror.

“He’s a prince.”

“He is, and that should be good news shouldn’t it?” Hyunjin looked even more unsure, coming behind the young Lord and beginning to brush his now dry hair. A man could ask for no better valet than Hwang Hyunjin, he’d made Jisung look his best even on the worst of days and did so effortlessly. 

“It should be good news, it IS good news. But what if... I mean I...”

“What’s wrong?” Felix kneeled beside the bench. Jisung couldn’t bring himself to look at his concerned expression, so he kept his gaze fixed on his own reflection.

“What if when he meets me... he doesn’t like what he sees? What if he hates me?” 

“That’s ridiculous!” Hyunjin tapped his shoulder with the brush before fetching the bottle of hair oil. 

“Yeah, what’s not to like about you?” If his long string of one-night stands was anything to go by, everything.

“It’s just, he’s a prince, so he could probably have anybody he wanted. What will he think of a lowly viscount? I cant compare to that.”

“You don’t have to compare, you’re marrying him, so he’s stuck with you.” Hyunjin laughed, Felix chuckling as well. He knew they meant well, knew they were trying to cheer him up, but it only further upset him. He thought of his awful morning, how demeaning and cold it had been, and what it would be like to be stuck with that for the rest of his days. As Hyunjin styled his hair and made up his face he just hoped he could convince himself this was a good thing before the day actually came.

———

He was going to be married. In a matter of days Lee Minho was going to be married. Oh fuck, he was getting married. He had to stay positive, had to remember this was just something princes do all the time, had to look at the bright side. Bright side... bright side... bright side: he was engaged to a man. He considered himself lucky he wasn’t the firstborn son, in which case he’d be matched up with a woman to produce heirs, as his brother had been. Chan is a great father to young Jeongin too, and was a great husband to his late wife despite their lack of choice in the situation. Minho knows he couldn’t have done the same. 

The news had been sprung on him suddenly, his parents alerting him of his newly engaged status with little care, as if talking about the weather. It was purely political, like all things they did. His soon to be husband was from across the continent, some distant relative of higher (ineligible) nobility and their marriage would be a sign of good will between the two. Pure politics, as his parents’ marriage had been, as his grandparents’ had been, and so on and so forth.

None of them loved each other. 

Day by day he panicked more thinking about it. Married. To a stranger. How did Chan do this and seem so calm? He wanted to ask him and hopefully find some support from his elder brother, but at the same time he couldn’t let on just how scared he was. What if his husband hated him for this? It’s not like his family would refuse an offer from the crown, he likely had no choice in the matter either. What if he didn’t even prefer men as Minho did? What if he was a horrid person? So many what-ifs.

“That’s the fourth time! You need to focus, your highness!” Minho looked down and sure enough the tip of a foil was poking into the padding of his chest, again. He could hear his sparring partner sigh before removing his own helmet and padding.  
“We’ll call it a day, your head just isn’t in it.”

“Yeah, I apologize, I’ll be more attentive tomorrow Changbin.”

“You said that yesterday too. Is something up?” 

“No, no, just been a little off lately, maybe I just need to take a break from this?”

“How long of a break?”

“I don’t know, maybe just a couple of days? Two or three maybe?”

“Or until after the wedding?”

“That’s, uh...”

“So that’s what this is about, you’re nervous about getting married.”

“No, I’m really not. I’m fine. I’m ready for it, excited even!”

“It’s okay to be nervous, your highness, it is a big deal after all.” Changbin wasn’t a pushy type of guy, he’d offer an opinion or reassurance here or there, but his relaxed disposition lent its own comfort to his words. So as he spoke Minho couldn’t help but want to open up, because he knew the response would be something calm and logical. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

“I know its okay, but I’m not nervous, really.”

“If you insist.”

He was so damn nervous, as he walked the halls he couldn’t even force his mind to focus on one of the many things he was worried about. So many things bounced around his head, he was so distracted he didn’t even realize his nephew was approaching until he was wrapped around his waist, squeezing the life out of him.

“Jeongin, where did you come from?”

“My room! I called you and you didn’t say anything!” The boy grinned up at his uncle.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just didn’t hear you.“ He ruffles his hair and puts on a smile, always glad to be with his sweet nephew. 

“Sorry to interrupt your highness,” Minho looked up to see one of the servants, Seungmin, holding a hand up to get their attention.  
“You’re wanted in the parlor, they want to go over some details for the ceremony.”

“Okay, I’ll head right over. Go play Jeongin, you and I can spend some time together later.” The boy ran off with a bright smile and Minho made his way to the parlor.

Spending the afternoon hashing out details of the wedding didn’t make him any less nervous for it, not by a long shot. Most of it went in one ear and out the other if he was being honest. They went over all the usual parts of the ceremony, all the droll scripture and unnecessary things like seating and decor. He didn’t care about these things, all he cared about was the man himself. 

Who was Han Jisung? 

Was he nice? Was he good looking? What did he like? What did he hate? All he knew was his name, and no one said otherwise regarding him. No one else seemed to care, this was just political.

Minho wanted to know though, he had always dreamed of fairytale love, of chance meetings and romantic storylines, with poetry and love preceding marriage and the big ‘Happily Ever After.’ He was too reserved for that though, to initiate his own storybook romance amongst the court was something he just could never do. He could talk to anyone, he was confident enough, but never had he felt the spark every story told him he should to begin his tale. Now he wonders if he should have just put himself out there to avoid this mess.

Would that have worked? Socializing with and romancing some other noble? The prince knew he had a reputation, that most people thought him to be cold and stuck-up, but the people closest to him, the ones that mattered, knew better. He wasn’t humorless, his sense of humor was just a little different. He wasn’t antisocial, he just didn’t tend to take the first steps in social situations. He loved to dance but never had a partner that would look him in the eye, so he stopped asking. There weren’t many things he cared about, but the things he did, oh he cared greatly. He’d give the entire world for those he held dear.

So no, he was not the breathing statue he was rumored to be, but hardly anyone took the time to know him. He wanted someone to know him, but he wouldn’t be afforded that luxury. No, he wouldn’t even get to know his own fiancé before they said ‘I do.’ 

“Minho.”

“Hm?” He tuned back in to the conversation, his father looking every bit as confused as Minho felt. 

“Were you listening?”

“Sorry, I was just reading over the uh, the vows,” he waved the papers in his hand.  
“What were you saying?”

“The wine, red or white?” Did it matter?

“Just have both, let the guests pick what they want.” He said nonchalantly before pretending to read the vows yet again.

He gave noncommittal answers to their questions, not caring one way or the other what color the linens were, what flowers would fill the wall sconces, what nobility were or weren’t invited. As a child he’d dreamed of a private wedding in a field in the spring, there would be birds singing, wild flowers blooming, and just two people in love making a promise to each other. How childish that seemed now. This wasn’t a fairytale, it was a life-size game of chess, so it had to be a spectacle. 

Most of the afternoon passed in a blur of the same and afterward he couldn’t find it in him to go look for his nephew as he said he would. He lay in bed, eyes fixed on the canopy above and feeling downright nauseous. This bed had always been too big. It was more than enough room for two people to lay together, or plenty of room to keep space between them. He didn’t know yet.

————

Today was the day. Jisung was holed up in some room in the foreign castle, Felix and Hyunjin fussing over his hair, makeup, and clothes while he just tried his hardest not to faint. He looked over at the nearly opaque veil hanging off the back of a chair in the corner of the room. It was customary in this kingdom, some sort of symbolic tradition for his husband to not see him on the wedding day until after their vows, after they were properly wed. It did nothing to soothe his fears.

Over the past month his anxiety only grew as the day came closer, and now that it was here he could hardly speak, hardly eat, he just felt scared.

“Look at you, so handsome. He’s going to fall head over heels in love with you.” Hyunjin turned the viscount toward the mirror, and he truly did look great, but he didn’t feel great. 

The royal blue jacket was tailored to fit his form and belted to accentuate his slim waist, the trim of his veil a matching shade. It was a lovely ensemble. His hair was styled perfectly, jet black locks shining in the light and looking silky soft despite the wax holding the style together. Black kohl smoked out around his eyes, the barest hint of rouge adding color to his cheeks and lips to bring the life back to his appearance. Truly, he looked wonderful, but it did nothing for his nerves.

“Now we just have to pin the veil into your hair!” Felix turned to retrieve it and Jisung immediately felt his stomach drop.

“No, uh, lets hold off on that for a little bit. I think I’ll go on a walk real quick.”

“A walk? But the ceremony is in less than an hour!” Felix’s face fell, the veil still in his hands taunting the viscount.

“I’ll be quick! I just need to clear my head.” He approached the door, Hyunjin trying briefly to block it.

“You WILL be back, right? We don’t have to follow you do we?”

“I’ll be back.” He nudged the valet aside and began to wander the halls. 

Around every corner he could hear conversation, the general hustle and bustle just a small taste of the monumental event to follow. He avoided the castle occupants to the best of his ability, turning and navigating through the halls away from the sounds of people. For the most part he was successful, but he still passed a few castle staff that would give him long looks before scurrying away. He wasn’t too excited about that.

Jisung eventually found a quiet part of the castle, far from the grand hall the ceremony was to be held in. The windows lining the wall overlooked a beautifully kept courtyard and small wooded area, he paused to look out the windows and admire the land, just enjoying the beautiful day and sunshine for a brief moment.

“I can’t do this, I thought I would be fine but I just can’t!” A voice cut through the quiet hall, startling the viscount.

“You can. Just breathe, it’ll be okay.” Another voice replied, trying to soothe the first speaker.

“No, Chan! I’ve been dreading this for weeks, and now I think I’m going to throw up, how can I go through with this?!” Jisung moved slowly toward the source of the voices, coming to a room with the door open just a crack, enough for him to see the corner where a jacket not dissimilar to his own hung haphazardly off a chair. 

“Look at me, Minho, everything will be okay, I promise you.” Minho. Lee Minho. His fiancé. Jisung was no scholar but it didn’t take a genius to know what they were talking about. He may just faint after all. 

“And what if its not? What if we can’t even get along? What then?” Minho countered while shuffling about with something in the room.

“Why would you think that? He doesn’t even know you, I’m sure at this point he’s indifferent to you.” So incredibly false, Jisung was far from indifferent, he was terrified of disappointing the prince, subconsciously bracing himself for the rejection he had grown accustomed to. Apparently the prince was having some similar doubts.

“I don’t know, maybe because everyone hates me! Everyone hates heartless, mean, soulless Minho!”

“Now you’re being dramatic. I think you just need to get some air.” Footsteps came toward the door and the viscount panicked. He couldn’t leave the corridor in time for them to not see him, so he glanced around and ducked into one of the surrounding rooms, heart pounding as he tried to close the door softly. He kept his ear to the door and listened for the disappearing footsteps, finally breathing when he could no longer make out their footfalls.

When he turned from the door he froze, on the other side of the room, ear to the wall, were two men he did not recognize looking just as shocked as he was.

“So uh... you didn’t see us here and we didn’t see you, deal?” The black-haired and shorter of the two asked.

“Deal? Um... is there any reason you shouldn’t be here?” Jisung asked in reply.

“Any reason you shouldn’t?” The taller brunette asked.

“No?” The young groom said hesitantly.

“Then no.” The strangers were clearly dressed to attend the wedding. The dark haired one had his hair pushed aside and styled, shoes polished and medal-adorned coat pressed, while the brunette wore a loose-fitting tunic with trousers and a soft woolen cap. They were dressed for the event yet here they were on the other side of the castle eavesdropping. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be Lord Han, would you?” The brunette looked at the jacket he wore as if just noticing it, less asking and more pointing it out. 

“I am. And you two would be?”

“Seo Changbin, royal guard, honored to make your acquaintance.” The shorter man gave a respectful bow.

“Kim Seungmin, footman,” he bowed as well with a sweet smile before dragging the guard toward the door and addressing the young lord.  
“I think it would be best that we get you back to your room, you need to be ready soon.”

“Yeah... I suppose I do.” The three proceeded into the hall, walking quietly for some minutes before Jisung couldn’t take it.

“How much did you hear of that?” The staff must have been in that room a while, maybe they heard something that could set the young lord at ease, because so far he’d only been made to feel worse.

“Of what?” Seungmin could have looked genuinely oblivious if not for the way his hands began to fidget nervously.

“Oh come on.”

“I just found you while doing a routine check of the corridors, I didn’t hear anything.” Changbin added.

“You’re a loyal guard, I’ll give you that.” He felt forlorn, just when he thought he was getting a window into the mysterious Prince Minho, it’s closed on him.

“I didn’t hear anything, however... the prince has been very anxious leading up to today. Anyone in the castle could tell you that. No one did, but anyone could.” The footman smirked as they walked, satisfied with his own little work-around.

“Oh? And could anyone in the castle tell me if people really think he’s mean? And uh... heartless? Do people really say things like that?” His voice shook, afraid of what the answer may be.

“Anyone could tell you that’s just ignorant court gossip. Prince Lee Minho is a bit guarded, maybe a tad eccentric, but he’s a gentle person. Every little thing he does is just taken far too seriously. The best advice you could be given is to just be a little patient and he’ll grow on you.” Changbin answered.

“Patience, yeah, well, we have the rest of our lives.”

“Hey now, I don’t think you’ll need that long.” The guard laughed.

Once they delivered Jisung back to his room the viscount was hit with his servant’s panic in full force. They fussed over him, making sure every little detail was still flawless, assuring him all was well, confirming for themselves again and again that he would not be a runaway groom. Even if he wanted to try and run it was far too late. The castle was crawling with guests and staff, the ceremony was minutes away, and as they walked him to the hall to join his family he couldn’t bring himself to think anything at all, let alone about running. 

He could hear the music echo through the halls as Felix finally affixed the veil in his hair and set it to cover his face. 

“You look lovely dear,” his mother complimented, giving his hand a squeeze as he was led toward the grand hall. He couldn’t muster a single word in reply, he felt sick. He felt nervous, he felt scared, he wasn’t even sure what he felt. He moved where they guided him and prayed silently that his legs did not collapse beneath him. He could hardly see through the thickly woven lace draped over his head and shoulders, and he was glad no one else could see him either, his emotional state surely bleeding through his expression.

“It’s time,” his father linked their arms as the door opened for them.

Yes, it was time.


	2. Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter! Not sorry, I get carried away with characterizing

His mother entered the hall first, taking her place up front. Next were Hyunjin and Felix, spreading petals across the aisle as the organ played. Felix had been so excited for this, he found the tradition to be sweet and couldn’t wait to pave Jisung’s path with flowers. Hyunjin had become misty-eyed when asked to do the task, dramatic, sentimental thing that he was. 

When his father began to walk, he followed along, led by the arm slowly up the walkway as the mellow organ music contrasted to his thrashing heartbeat. He kept his head up but his eyes focused on the ground, counting his steps as they went, fresh petals crushed beneath his feet. 

Jisung tried to keep his breathing steady as he walked, step, inhale, step, exhale, repeat. Why was the aisle so very long? Were they almost to the altar? Should he look up to check? Maybe just a brief look will settle his nerves. He looks. They’re hardly halfway to the fuzzy block and outlines of people before them. He looks back down, and stumbles.

The room is filled with gasps, the attendees holding their breath as the groom rights himself again and his father steadies him. He hadn’t fallen, just stumbled a little, but it happened in front of god and everyone. Worse, it happened in front of the prince. They started their slow walk again and Jisung could practically feel the eyes burning into him, he felt humiliated. He didn’t look up again, not as they walked, not when he was escorted up the few steps to the altar, and not when his fiancé was prompted to take his hands in theirs. He focused on the ground between them and the goal of not fainting.

———-

Jisung’s hands were shaking in his, and it only made Minho more afraid. The other boy must be terrified, he must be so upset, he must hate the prince. No matter what Chan said, he must hate him. In a situation like this it would be so easy to direct all his rage at the person he was marrying, and Minho couldn’t blame him. 

The ceremony proceeded as he was told it would, scripture, tradition, a speech that dragged for what felt like hours, he paid it little mind. His attention was fixed to the veiled figure in front of him, he tried to decipher features through the pale lace mesh but it was all a vague blur. So he instead looked at their joined hands, the viscount’s hold was lax, just letting his hands rest where the prince held them. His skin was gold against Minho’s ivory and his mind conjured up the thought of how pretty their silver band will look on his finger. 

As the pastor’s speech drew closer to the vows he could feel the way that soft trembling grew to a near alarming rattle. He adjusted his hold and firmly grasped his fiancé’s hands, steadying the shakes. The figure did not stir, hands still limp in his. He stroked his thumbs over their knuckles once briefly, hoping he was relaying some form of comfort. He wished he could tell him not to be scared, that everything would be okay, that he was afraid too, but it would be a while before they could be alone to talk. 

There were so many things he’d say to the boy. He’d say that he was sorry, that this wasn’t his choice either and that he would never again have Jisung do something he didn’t want to do. Not for as long as he lived. He would say that he wishes they could be close, that even if they do not love each other he could be a friend, they could be civil, they could coexist, they didn’t need to push. He could trust Minho. 

“Lee Minho,” the prince tore his eyes from their hands and looked to the pastor.  
“Will you take Han Jisung as your husband? To hold and cherish for the rest of your days?”

He looked back at trembling golden hands and once again swiped his thumb across soft skin.

“I do. I, Lee Minho, take Han Jisung as my husband, to hold and cherish for the rest of my days.” A ring was held out to him on a tiny little palm, Jeongin grinning up at him, obviously excited that the long boring grown up stuff was almost over. He smiled back to his nephew and took the ring, sliding it onto his almost-husband’s finger and admiring how right he’d been, it looked nice there. 

“And do you, Han Jisung, take Lee Minho as your husband? To hold and cherish for the rest of your days?” It was quiet, too quiet for a few beats too long, hands still trembling but his figure oh so still. Minho looked at his hands, at the silver band, he could feel Jisung’s heart pounding. His was too. He squeezed, inhaled, loosened his grip, exhaled.

“I do.”  
His voice was soft, but deep in its own right, soothing to the ear despite how clearly terrified he was. Minho kept up his breathing and alternating.  
“I, Han Jisung, take Lee Minho as my husband, to hold and cherish for the rest of my days.”

Jeongin held up the other ring, Jisung taking it slowly and fumbling around his fingers, almost putting it on the prince’s right hand before correcting himself.

“You may now kiss your groom.” The pastor called, and Minho felt the climax of his wedding-day nerves crashing in on him. He’d finally get to see Han Jisung.

His own hands were shaking just a little as he delicately took the hem of the veil, pulling it up over his husband’s shoulders, over his head, away from his face, and he paused. The veil still held up in his hands above their heads blocked out the rest of the world as it curtained around the man before him. Han Jisung was beautiful. 

What caught him first was his eyes, deep, dark, and glassy with unshed tears. His lips were pouty and pink, so very kissable. As was the rest of his face, from his pillowy cheeks to his nose. His dark brows were knit together in uncertainty, his hesitance clear as day on his face. Despite the meaning behind his expression, as their eyes met Minho knew he could look at him forever. 

He was beautiful just like this, but Minho wanted to see him smile, he wanted to see him laugh, wanted to see him angry, and tired; he felt like he wanted to see everything, capture it all, he felt... he felt... he felt a spark. 

Someone cleared their throat and he realized he must have been standing there staring for an absurd amount of time. He dropped the veil back and leaned forward slowly, heart hammering at the prospect of kissing this alluring stranger, his husband. He reeled himself in by remembering that he shouldn’t be selfish. This was just ceremonial, Jisung didn’t want it, and he shouldn’t try to force it. It was a quick kiss, chaste, barely there, and Jisung turned his gaze down immediately after. Still the hall applauded as if this were really some romantic spectacle.

Minho was ushered away from his new husband, they would rejoin in the dining hall for the reception. He thought after the wedding he would feel better, so why was he so much more anxious now?

———

“So how does it feel to be a married man?” Hyunjin smiled as he touched up Jisung’s makeup.

“It’s... okay. I guess.” He spun the new ring around his finger as his mind chose to preoccupy itself with reliving the feeling of hands holding securely to his. It was such a comfortable feeling to have that strong but gentle presence to anchor him. 

“Just okay?” Felix leaned by the door, ready for them to join the reception party. 

“Well... he’s very handsome.” He said unsurely. The prince certainly was handsome, gorgeous, the most stunning creature Jisung had ever seen. His brown hair looked so soft and fell easily into gentle waves, his deep chocolate eyes were sharp and paralyzing the way they bore into him, and his every feature looked as if it were carved from marble. He was practically inhuman, flawless in every aspect. And that’s all he knew. 

“He certainly is, but...?” Felix tilted his head.

“Did you see how he looked at me?”

“No, the veil was in the way. Was it magical? Was it romantic? Did he smile and look at you like you hung the stars in the sky?” Hyunjin practically sang with a big smile.

“It was... I don’t know... He just stared at me and I have no clue what he was thinking...” he looked down at the ring he had been fiddling with, it fit perfectly but felt oh so heavy. 

“Maybe he was just a little tired?” Hyunjin tried. Jisung could only think of what he had overheard before the wedding. Minho had been dreading this for weeks, they both had, and then clumsy Jisung flubbed his way through the ceremony and probably made a bad impression on the entire court. He didn’t have any hard feelings toward the prince but after that whole mess he couldn’t be sure if it went both ways. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right.” He replied flatly.  
“We should get to the party.”

Jisung hates parties, and right now he is walking through what has to be the loudest, most crowded, grandest gathering he’s seen in his life. Already there is dancing and wine being poured, all in attendance enjoying themselves. All except the married couple it seems. The prince sits at the long, empty head table with his face as blank as ever, watching the festivities. The way his eyes were fixed on the dance floor, elbows on the table and chin resting in his palms Jisung couldn’t quite decipher what was going on in his head. Did he want to dance? Was he judging the guests for dancing? Hard to tell.

The viscount accepted many congratulations with a stiff smile and shaking of hands, despite trying his best to (very subtly) dodge those approaching him. Whenever he looked around there wasn’t a single face he recognized and it made his stomach turn to be lost in this sea of unfamiliar faces. Even the compliments make him anxious coming from unfamiliar mouths, he had to keep it together though, he’d embarrassed himself enough for one day. 

So even though he had to clasp his hands to keep them from shaking, he held strong. Even when his heart was pounding in his throat he smiled and nodded along to whatever the newest stranger was saying to him. Even when he had to remind himself to breathe and the sea of faces started blurring together he stood with his head up.

God, how he hated parties.

He did recognize one face though, in the sea of strangers there was one face he kept looking back to when he was getting overwhelmed. Another stranger, but at least a familiar one. Surely no one would fault him for leaving the crowd to sit with his husband would they? No, of course not. He could sit there silently, catch his breath away from the suffocating crowd, surely the prince wouldn’t mind him sitting in his own chair at the head table for a little while. 

It’s a fight to reach his destination, some partygoers still stopping him to offer their blessings and praise, but they cut themselves short when he would direct a look toward the prince. The prince was never looking back, he never seemed to be looking at anything really. So he is visibly shocked when the chair to his right is pulled out, not having noticed someone approach. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Jisung offers shyly, bowing his head before looking out at the banquet hall. 

“You didn’t. I mean you did surprise me, but not disturb... if that makes sense?” 

“Um, maybe?” Jisung gives a quick glance toward the prince and he’s looking down at his hand, spinning the new ring around his finger. 

“Would it be alright if I ask you something?” The prince turns his attention on his new husband, making him fidgety. He didn’t expect them to actually have a conversation.

“Y-yes, of course.” He looks down at his own hands, clasping them together on the table.

“I just want to ask you if you-“

“Wine, your highness?” A voice interrupts, an older man with a silver tray of glasses standing just aside from them. Minho sighs but nods.

“Yes, thank you.” The man sets down two glasses of a dark red before them.

“Oh, no thank you.” Jisung says quietly, just loud enough to be heard but afraid to offend anyone.

“My apologies, would you prefer a white?” He perks up at this.

“If possible, please.”

“I’ll send someone around for you immediately.” The man left them, headed toward a young woman with another tray of glasses.

“You don’t like red wine?” The prince asks, lifting his drink to his lips.

“I... don’t hate it.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“No, I don’t.” He looked at the glass as his husband set it down, unable to look at him directly.

“What else do you not like?” He wasn’t sure how to interpret that, was it direct or was he being sarcastic? He couldn’t tell. Luckily the young servant woman came by with his drink, giving him an excuse not to answer as he sipped from the glass. That only took up so little time though. When he set down the half-empty glass he could feel eyes on him.

“What else do I not like?”

“Yeah. I want to know.” The prince rested his chin on his hand, attention wholly on Jisung.

“I guess I don’t really like hot drinks either, like tea?”

“Interesting, I don’t like carnations, ya know, the flower. They wilt and fall apart so easily.”

“I don’t like the smell of tobacco.” Jisung supplied quickly.

“I can’t stand when people stand too close to talk.”

“I’m afraid of heights?”

“What a coincidence, so am I,” the prince made a surprised face before looking again at the party before them.  
“and if I’m being really honest, I hate parties.” He said quietly.

“So do I!” Jisung erupted in surprise, much louder than he intended. The prince looked shocked by his volume, staring at him with wide eyes and mouth opened slightly.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.” He apologized and reached again for his drink.

“No, no, it’s alright. You’ve just been so quiet I didn’t expect that. Be as loud as you want, I don’t think anyone can hear you over all this.” He waved a hand toward the floor but didn’t look away from Jisung. 

“That’s, uh, probably true.” He barely spared a glance to the crowd, eyes now intent on cataloguing every little reaction of the prince.  
“Why don’t you like parties?” He asked. Minho shrugged and cocked his head, eyes looking to the ceiling as he mulled it over.

“Too many people, too many expectations, and even the parts I do like eventually get ruined for me by the end of the night.” He sipped his wine.

“What parts of it do you like?” 

“Dancing, I really love to dance.”

“Then what ruins it for you?”

“I can never find a good partner.” Jisung felt his gut twist at that, he knew that feeling.

“I don’t like the crowds either, or the expectations, and all the things I think I like get ruined for me too.” He voiced his solidarity. Minho just looked at him for a moment with the same blank face as before, until he gave a little smile. The viscount’s heart skipped.

“Then let’s just keep to ourselves, hm? The two of us, no expectations, sound good?” With such a sweet expression Jisung would have agreed to anything, he didn’t have to think twice.

“Yes, that does sound good.”

Their conversation flowed surprisingly easily, talk of likes and dislikes, interests, art, education, books, just normal things. Nice, safe, common things. Yet Jisung’s heart was fluttering with the thought that he currently held the attention of such a beautiful being. No one else asked him about his boring daily life and smiled when he mentioned his love of music, or asked him to tell them more. No one else asked his favorite part of the latest play he’d seen or recommended books they thought he’d like. No one else had ever cared what he liked.

Minho too seemed eager to share his love of painting (poorly, he insists) and literature with his new spouse. As well as to pry details from him. When Jisung said his favorite season was spring, Minho wanted to know why. When he said he liked sailing Minho wanted to know when was the first time he was on a boat. Minho listened, Minho cared. Even when Jisung was getting loud and animated, hands flailing and speech verging on improper, the prince nodded along and stayed just as invested in his quieter way.

“Do you like cats?” He asks suddenly.

“I guess? I like animals in general but my family has always kept dogs and horses, so I can’t say for sure. Do you have cats?”

“I do, and they’re a great judge of character so I will be judging you completely off of whether they like you or not.” He tried to hold back his smile, but Jisung could see how the corner of his lips pulled. They were joking, this was good.

“And if they don’t like me?”

“Then this will be the shortest marriage in history.” Jisung laughed. Hard. Partially because he genuinely found it funny, and partially because he could finally feel the tension easing. It felt good to laugh, and when he saw Minho smiling back at him it felt even better.

“It’s a good thing I can fish, I may need to bribe them.” He shot back through a radiant smile. Then it was Minho’s turn to laugh, and as the sound met his ears Jisung knew he had something else to add to his long list of likes. The prince was even more beautiful when he laughed, his eyes nearly closed and open smile warming the viscount to his core. 

“I’m sure they would like that.” He replied before finishing his glass and waving across the room for another. 

Guarded, eccentric, but gentle, that’s what Changbin had said. He seemed every bit of it so far. He’s certainly soft spoken, with an odd sense of humor, and as for being guarded... he kept a distance between them as they spoke that continued to feel much too far apart for Jisung’s liking. This was new territory for him, while he was used to suggestive conversation and wandering hands to make his heart beat, it was now going absolutely haywire over a few bad jokes and zero contact at all. He liked the connection, he wanted more, but it wasn’t his place; Minho had to make that move. 

Was the prince just not interested? The thought made his smile feel a bit harder to keep.

————

Lee Minho was in love. He had to be. The moment he saw that wide, heart-shaped smile and heard that lively laugh, he just knew the warmth in his chest and butterflies in his stomach were the very same he’d heard of in sonnets. Jisung listened to him drone on about the stories he loved that no one else cared about, he laughed at his jokes, and his attention was just so genuine. Every little thing was broadcasted on his face, if he was interested you could see it, if he was sad or happy or confused you could see that too, it was a trustworthy trait to have. 

As they talked he couldn’t help toying with his ring. They were getting along well enough, but could they progress? If he wanted to hold his hand again, could he? They’d yet to have that serious talk Minho wanted and he chickened out every time he thought to start. So he would do nothing for now. It was all up to Jisung and what he wanted. At least he didn’t seem to hate the prince.

The guests began to take their seats, the time for feasting had come and after so much merriment they were sure to be starving. The head table filled, the royal family to one side and the Han Clan to the other, their sons centered as the bridge between.

“Minho, I sure hope you do not plan to stay in your seat all night?” The queen asks as she adjusts her skirts. Minho looks to Jisung, whom has had his eyes glued to his lap since their little world of isolation was intruded on. 

“I may, for most of it at least.” He looks back toward his mother.

“Would it kill you to socialize once in a while?” 

“I don’t know, probably not, but I’m not taking that risk.” The short laugh to his right drew his attention back to the smiling Jisung, hiding his grin behind his second glass of wine. 

“Why do I even try.” His mother sighed.

It was a silent affair at the head table, while the guests fraternized and enjoyed food and conversation the wed families remained mute and dignified. Minho noticed his husband become increasingly more restless as time dragged, squirming in his seat, fingers tracing the cutlery, leg bouncing beside his, and looking at his face he just looked so uncomfortable. The prince didn’t want that for him.

“Jisung.” The leg bouncing stopped and his husband turned to him wide-eyed, cheeks still stuffed full.  
“Sorry, I was going to ask you something, you can keep eating.” He turned back to his own plate. A few short seconds later and a hand tapped softly on his right shoulder.

“No, it’s okay, please ask.” He assures after swallowing. Honestly, he had no clue what he was going to ask, he just felt like in the moment he had to say something to make things less tense. He had to think quick. 

“Do you like dancing?” 

“I suppose... I don’t dance very often though.” He supplied easily.

“Would you like to dance with me?” This made the man pause, eyebrows up and mouth refusing to cooperate as it opened and closed in silence.  
“You can say no if you don’t want to. No expectations, remember? I won’t force you to do anything.” It was the closest he could get to that talk for now, but it felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“I want to. Yes, I would like to dance with you.” Jisung smiles shyly down at his food, fiddling with the fork more than actually using it. Minho smiles back, completely missing the knowing look his brother is giving from the end of the table.

Plates have been cleared, the music has started back up, and the couple is once again alone at the table. Minho had hoped to dance with his husband immediately after their meal but he had forgotten one more stupid little tradition they had to take part in. Following the feast guests were expected to congratulate the pair on their union and give them their best wishes, sometimes bringing ridiculously extravagant gifts. So here they sat, nodding and repeating the same ‘thank you’s to a never ending line of people.

Jisung was no less jittery now, his hands hidden behind the table playing with anything on his person they could to distract him. His sleeves, his pants, his fingers, his ring, everything was fair game. The prince wanted to say something to bring him comfort, but it was tough when he was having to speak to a new person every few seconds.

He looked at his own hands, perhaps... He set his right hand on the table, open, relaxed, nonchalant. He doesn’t know if he could just take Jisung’s hand when he was already so uncomfortable, so he’d give him the option, let him know that he is here. Another ‘I will pray for your happiness’ and superfluous gift taken away by the staff later and his hand is still open on the table. Another two, three, then its there, warmth and the slow, hesitant movement of fingers sliding between his own. He waits for their hands to settle together before he gives a soft squeeze, his breath catching when he gets one back. 

The line just keeps going, but he doesn’t mind it as much anymore, not when he feels so warm. Their hands rest comfortably on the table for some time with interlocked fingers. Jisung was tapping his fingers against the back of Minho’s hand along to the music filling the hall but he was less fidgety with something to occupy him. Another ‘I will drink to your health’ then two, three more, and Jisung was pulling his hand back.

Minho looked over quickly, wondering why he had withdrawn, only for his hand to be enveloped again. His hand was now lain flat, palm down on the table while Jisung’s rested atop and alternated stroking between his fingers and again tapping along to the rhythm of the band. It was comfortable, easy.

His gratitudes were brief, automatic, and the best he could do when his mind was so full of Jisung. Every time he moves his fingers the wedding band gleams and the prince is quickly becoming obsessed with the sight of it. Does Jisung like the ring? Would he want another? Maybe a gold one this time? Maybe a more intricate band? With a stone, or several, sapphires perhaps. The deep blue would be gorgeous against his skin, wrapped around his finger as the prince was. Or hanging around his neck. From his ears. Pinned in his hair. Minho would cover him in jewels if he wished, he only need ask.

“Looks like it’s finally my turn, eh?” Minho looks ahead again, hardly realizing he’d been so distracted. Before them stands Chan, Jeongin nearly asleep with his head on his shoulder.

“You would have had plenty of opportunity after this too, you didn’t need to wait around.” Minho rolled his eyes, holding back a good-natured smile. His brother saw through this and beamed.

“I thought it would be a nice gesture, but I digress. I just wanted to wish you two all the happiness and love in the world. Welcome, Jisung.” He bows his head briefly and retreats, surely to tuck in the exhausted toddler for the night. 

“Standing around to say two sentences, what an idiot.” Minho laughs under his breath.

“He seems very kind.” Jisung whispers in response as he eyes the room, again bustling with the usual banquet fanfare. 

“Kind, yes. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Oh.” Minho didn’t like the tone, it was too soft, too quiet. He looked over and his husband was glaring through the back of his hand, cheeks flushed red. He had hoped for a laugh, but he’d apparently just put his foot in his mouth.

“What about that dance, huh?” He turns his right hand over to take Jisung’s and smiles to him, hoping it was still a yes despite whatever he had inadvertently caused.

“Now?” The dark-haired young man looks around the room at the guests hopping and prancing about to the latest jig. He had obviously expected to do a waltz with his new husband, not this.

“Yeah, why not? Unless... you don’t want to? We can wait for another song if you prefer.” He sits back in his chair.

“No, we can dance, I just don’t think I’ll be very good.” Jisung stands hesitantly, hand still in Minho’s as he regards him with that blank look again for a moment before grinning and getting to his feet.

“Lucky for you that you have a great partner then.”

—————

Minho certainly is a great partner to have, Jisung thinks. Whenever the viscount stumbles on the quick changes or misses a step the prince simply laughs and instructs him on the correct footing. He doesn’t improve, his nerves at an all-time high under the eye of a room full of higher nobility. However, he also feels surprisingly free as he looks to the smiling face of his new husband. With him, he felt like he could laugh too, genuinely, loudly as he pleased. 

He was worried at first that he would be just another bad dance partner ruining the one thing Minho enjoyed, but the way he smiled and laughed along, making his own jokes about Jisung forgetting the moves dismissed his concerns. They were enjoying themselves, together. Had Jisung ever danced like this? If he had he couldn’t remember it, and he didn’t care to when this felt so special for him.

The music slowed after a while, a typical waltz taking over from the upbeat tunes they had so enjoyed. The prince coiled an arm around his waist and fell easily into step, leading the two. From the corner of his eye Jisung could see the floor clearing, the attendees stepping aside to watch them. His anxiety returned full force. He shuffled through a few steps and revolutions, eyes on the floor.

“Hey, are you okay?” Minho leaned forward, voice low to avoid any unwanted eavesdropping.

“They’re all staring at me.” Jisung didn’t look up from their shoes as they turned.

“Of course they are, you’re dancing with me.” Minho rubbed soothing circles into his back. His husband gave an empty laugh to his joke but said nothing in reply.  
“We can stop?” The prince offered.

“No, everyone’s seen me trip and fumble all day, I don’t want to humiliate myself further by cutting this short.” 

“For what it’s worth, I find your clumsiness endearing.” Jisung looked up to another bright smile, and in the light of this positive attention, he felt a little braver.

“Well if I trip, can you pretend to trip too so I don’t have to be embarrassed by myself?” This made his husband downright giggle and hold him just a touch tighter.

“Of course, I’ll even make it look worse.” He agreed.

As they turned about the dance floor, eyes locked and hearts pounding, Jisung knew he was falling in a completely different way.


	3. Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the E rating, and probably longest chapter. Also, a lot of emotions

Jisung was a nervous wreck following the banquet, partially because he didn’t know what to do with these new feelings, and because he knew what happens after the wedding. He’d never been nervous to have sex before, it was usually the only thing he was sure of when he was with someone. Usually it was the only reason to BE with someone. They wanted his body and he wanted their attention, simple as that.

Not Minho.

Minho wanted to know his favorite foods and why he preferred the lute over the viola; he liked when he talked and encouraged him to laugh and enjoy himself. And he did enjoy himself when he was with Minho; despite the crowds and pressures of high society he felt so comfortable when it was just the two of them. Beautiful, beautiful Minho gave him a new type of attention he wasn’t used to. It was sweet and gentle like when he would talk with Felix, but he could tell there was something there, left unsaid. He could see it in the way the prince looked at him, or when he stared at their joined hands, or how he couldn’t stop smiling while they danced. There was something. There had to be.

Jisung wanted it, whatever it was. He wanted to please his prince however he could, he would let the man use him however he see fit if it meant he could bask in all that was Prince Lee Minho. It wasn’t his place to demand attention and time from the royal, he knew that, but he would take anything he was willing to give.

They were separated again to wash up after the banquet, Felix and Hyunjin relocating Jisung’s belongings to the prince’s suite, giving him a short window of time to prepare himself. He was three fingers deep, biting down on a towel to muffle the groans and gasps fighting to escape him. It was rushed and uncomfortable, almost painful as he forcefully stretched his hole beneath the water of the bath, but he had to be ready soon. 

A knock came not long after he started trying, and failing, to derive some sort of pleasure from his own rough treatment.

“Lord Han, your things have been taken to the room, I’ll escort you when you’re ready.” Felix called through the door.

“Just a minute!” Jisung croaked out, flinching at his own rough, distressed voice. He left the bath and looked himself over in the mirror as he dressed. He hadn’t washed the makeup from his face, he wanted to look his best in case plain Jisung didn’t appeal to the flawless, statuesque prince. As he pulled on loose trousers and tied a silk robe around himself he prayed yet again that this wasn’t another one-time thing. His battered heart wouldn’t be able take spending the rest of his life with someone that wanted nothing to do with him. 

Felix gave him his trademark grin before leading them out of the room, chatting about something from the banquet that the young lord couldn’t even pay attention to. The walk through the halls was dreadfully short, Jisung wished he had more time to prepare himself mentally for this. They stood before a large set of ornately carved doors, worthy of a prince.

“Have a good night, Lord Han, rest well.” Felix gave a short bow, and Jisung could tell by his smirk that he knew there would be no resting. He took a few deep breaths and pushed through one of the doors before he could change his mind.

The room was mostly dark, a single candle was lit in the corner atop a desk, the prince reading by its light. He was just as stunning in the shadows as he was in daylight. His chest was bare exposing the contour of muscles previously hidden beneath formal wear. The moon shone full and bright through one of the windows on the far wall, casting half of the ridiculously large bed in silver light and leaving the room washed in blue-grey hues. 

The prince looked up.

“Ah, Jisung, I was starting to think you got lost.” He closed his book after sliding a feather into the pages to keep his place.

“No, just uh, had to wash up. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He held tight to the sash of his robe, anxious but ready to tear it away. The prince got up from his seat and came closer until they were within arms reach.

“But you’re still wearing your makeup?” He cocked his head to the side, eyes scanning his husband.

“I must have forgotten, it’s been a long night. I’ll wash it off in the morning.” He looked nervously toward the bed, biting his lip in anticipation. He wanted this, he wanted it so bad, but was he allowed to initiate it?

In the midst of his worries he felt something graze his leg and looked down. An orange and white cat was rubbing against his calf, he leaned down to give it a scratch behind the ears, earning a rumbling purr in reply. The break from the moment was a welcomed respite.

“Soonie likes you.” Minho says.  
“That’s one, now we’ll have to see about the other two.” He laughs softly. Jisung straightens up and Minho turns to shoo the cat from the room, closing the door behind it. He turns and walks past the viscount, collecting the candle from the desk then heading toward the bed.  
“Do you prefer a particular side?”

“I... no?” Jisung walked closer hesitantly.

“I’ll take the left then, you can have the right.” He walked around to his chosen side and sat on the edge of the bed, placing the candle on the side table.  
“Is that alright?”

Jisung didn’t know what to think. Were they not going to... Minho didn’t want...? Right. Of course he didn’t, Jisung was beneath him. 

The viscount took to the other side, nodding an affirmative as he pulled back the heavy bedding. He lay on his right watching the prince as he blew out the candle and slid under the blankets himself. Minho lay on his back, staring into the darkness of the canopy above for several minutes before he turned his face to Jisung.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” His voice was firm, but his brows pinched together as though he were nervous.

“What is it?”

“Our situation... I know it isn’t exactly ideal. I mean, I know we didn’t get a choice in this.” Jisung’s heart sank as he nodded an affirmative. Minho may not have been his choice, but he was very much ideal.  
“But I think we should make the best of this. I feel horrible that the choice was taken from you; you didn’t get the option to get to know someone, or fall in love, and I’m sorry. I may not be able to make it up to you, but I can try. I want us to get along, and I want you to be comfortable, so I won’t ever ask you to do anything you don’t want to. Okay? And if you ever need or want anything, ask me, okay?”

Jisung was heartbroken, and delighted, and so many other conflicting things. Minho was so kind, so considerate, so perfect. He could only nod, not trusting his voice not to break over some half-hearted acceptance he’d force out. The prince eyed him for a bit, eyes darting around his face before turning away, his back to his new husband. 

Jisung lay there staring at his back for far too long, trying to convince himself that this was okay. He’d love to have a friend like Lee Minho, anyone would be lucky to. Yet the ache in his chest told him that he very much was not okay with this, and that he was an absolute moron for thinking he’d seen something there. 

But he had, hadn’t he? He had been so scared of what this day, what the future in general would hold for him, but the moment he was ready to accept a new life with his surprise husband it was yanked away. How was he supposed to feel?

The prince hadn’t stirred once, his breathing hadn’t changed, and it seemed he was purposely sticking to the edge of the bed as far as he could get from Jisung. He must still be awake. As the viscount traced the muscles of his back with his eyes he turned over every little word in his head. Had he really read things wrong? Sweet, gentle, considerate Minho. Reserved, guarded, soft-spoken Minho. He cared about what Jisung liked, what he wanted, and what made him comfortable. So if Jisung said he wanted Minho, there was no harm in saying it, was there? Minho may tell him no, but he’d let him down gently, and at least then he could no longer feel guilty for Jisung’s lack of choice. 

He pulled himself up on his arms trying to make out the prince’s face, but he couldn’t see past his shoulder. He slid a bit closer and lay back down, his husband now just barely in arm’s reach.

“Minho?” He said quietly.

“Hm?” The reply was immediate, but he didn’t move.

“You and I, we’re married now.”

“We are.” His tone was neutral, and the short reply only added to Jisung’s nervousness. He reached across the chasm between them, his fingers grazing ever so lightly from the left shoulder down to the center of his back.

“This is our wedding night.” He sounded unsure even to his own ears.

“It is.” Truth be told, with every quick answer he was losing whatever bravery had pushed him to do this in the first place.

“On the wedding night... shouldn’t we... “ he couldn’t keep the wobble from his voice. His fingers traced slowly down the ridges of his husband’s spine before pulling away altogether.

“I don’t care about should or shouldn’t, don’t feel pressured just because its customary. I’m not asking you to do something you don’t want to do.” The reply was quick, he didn’t even have to consider otherwise.

“Do you... not want to?”

“Doesn’t matter.” The prince finally moved, adjusting his pillow before thumping back down onto it, he was getting frustrated.

“Why would it not matter?”

“Because unless we both want it, it won’t happen, I’m not forcing you. End of story.” He pulled the blanket further up his torso to cover most of his back. 

Jisung thinks he understands it now. He thought it wasn’t his place to make requests of the prince, but Minho thought it would be an in poor taste to take reign over the viscount. Sweet Minho wanted him to want it on his own, and he did. 

He lifted himself up again and shuffled slowly over until he was sharing the space with his prince, the silk of his robe the only thing between his chest and his husband’s back. Still propped on his right forearm, Jisung wrapped his left around the still figure as he leaned over to press a kiss to his shoulder. 

“I want this.” Another kiss, this time higher.  
“I want you.” Another, to his collar bone.  
“Do you want me?” He hovered around his neck, awaiting the green light.

His prince nodded an affirmative, turning to face his husband.

“Yes, I do. Very much.” His hands toyed with the knotted silk sash.  
“Can I have you?”

“Please.” Jisung pressed a few quick kisses across his throat, his collar, his shoulder, but stayed away from his lips; men never wanted him to kiss them on the mouth when they had sex.

Minho turned them over, laying his husband back on the mattress to return his shower of kisses. He undid the robe, Jisung shrugging it off eagerly to allow for hands to roam more easily. His husband was lavishing his neck and chest with soft pecks, but his hands remained still at his waist.

“You can d-do more, if you want.” He muttered into wavy brown hair.

“What do you want me to do?” 

“What do I want?”

“Tell me what you want, Jisung, and I’ll give it to you.” Jisung felt himself stir, he’d never been allowed to choose like this and the idea was doing things to him that usually took much more stimulation to achieve. It was new, and sexy. There were many things his past partners never gave to him, and he wondered how much of it Minho would be willing to give.

“Can you touch me?” He nearly whispered it as he slowly opened his legs to make room for his husband between them. Almost immediately the hands at his hips came to life, the right tracing slowly up his abs and chest, the left caressing his thigh. A thumb toyed with one of his nipples while the hand on his thigh took to teasing him, stroking back and forth closer and closer to his hardening cock but not yet touching him how he desired.

“Like that?” His hand finally made contact, stroking through the fabric briefly before going down his thigh again and back.

“C-can you... “ Jisung tilted his hips, trying to get more friction from the blessed hand as it retreated back down his leg. He reached to grab the prince’s wrist and guide him but stopped himself, laying his hands above his head. His hesitance didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Don’t hold back, tell me what you want.” 

“More, please, touch me more. No teasing.” He sighed when the hand returned, focused on his now fully hard member as the other undid the tie on his pants. It was undone easily and Minho began again kissing across his collar bones as his fingers hooked into the waistband. 

“Jisung.” He mumbled, not bothering to pull away from the other’s body.

“Hm?” His eyes had begun to close as he enjoyed the sensations on his skin.

“I’m only going to do what you want me to.” An open-mouthed kiss just under his jaw had the viscount breathless as the hand between his legs continued its efforts over his pants.  
“So if you don’t like something, tell me to stop. If you want me to do something, tell me to do it.”

“Anything?” His trousers were yanked down and he was finally blessed with the feeling of skin on skin as Minho took him in hand. He gasped and threw his head back, hands clutching at the pillow behind his head. 

“Anything.” 

When was the last time someone had pleasured him like this? He didn’t know, he didn’t care, because surely they didn’t make him feel like Minho did. His husband. This was his husband, and that felt good to say. His husband cared what he wanted, that felt even better. The man on his knees between his thighs, stroking him off and burying his face in his neck was his husband. Not some one-night bastard that sneered at his rank or abused his body for his own pleasure, his husband. That felt so good, so very, very-

“Stop!” Jisung called, his back bowing and legs beginning to tremble from the pleasure that had crept up on him. Minho pulled back quickly, hands leaving his partner completely.

“What’s wrong?” He looked so genuinely concerned as his husband tried to collect himself with heavy breaths.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” He assured.  
“I’m just really close. I don’t want to finish yet.” His dick was dripping onto his stomach, ready to burst at the slightest stimulation, or thought apparently. He felt stable again after a few more steady breaths, even if his heart still ricocheted around his chest.

“Good?” His prince leaned over him again, hand returning to his thigh.

“Yeah.” His hands returned to their ministrations as though they had never stopped, and Jisung knew it would unravel him again if he gave it the chance.   
“I want- can you... “

“Mhm?” Jisung suddenly felt shy, he’d never been shy in the bedroom, but Minho was something totally new to him. He wrapped his arms around strong shoulders and buried his head in his husband’s neck, giving a kiss to his pulse before reaching to whisper in his ear.

“I want you inside me.” With their close proximity he could feel the way his partner’s hips jerked at the same time his hand stuttered on the slick shaft. The viscount bit back a noise he worried may be too much.  
“Please, please, please, you can do whatever you like with me, I just need you.” Another thrust. Minho pulled away again, slower, before leaning over toward the side table. He said nothing and produced from the drawer an apothecary jar of some type of oil, when he opened it a sweet smell began to fill the room. He dipped his fingers into the jar and was back again, his dry hand working Jisung’s pants further down his legs.

“You’re sure?” He asked as he finally had the clothing off and thrown to the floor.

“I am.” Jisung got to his knees and turned around to be on all fours, but a tap on his shoulder had him turn again.

“Stay on your back.” Minho said, guiding his husband back to his original position despite his confusion.

“You want me like this?”

“I want to see you.” The prince answered as his hand dipped down between Jisung’s legs, fingers circling his hole.

Jisung has never had someone ask for him like this, they typically didn’t want to see who they were burying themselves in. He’d been told more then once that with his slim waist and round hips he could very easily be taken for a woman from behind. Minho didn’t want to pretend he was someone else.

A finger breached his opening and Jisung couldn’t help the little shiver that went up his spine.

“You don’t have to do that. You can just put it in, I’m ready for it.” The finger curled and gave a little tug upward and suddenly he was fighting not to arch into it.

“You’re not ready, I barely have one finger in you and you’re still so tight. You’ll have to be patient.” He leaned up and gave a kiss to the side of Jisung’s face before brushing his hair back. He continued to work his finger in and out as he carded the fingers of his other hand through silky black hair. His eyes raked over every inch of his husband again and again until he finally added the second finger.

Jisung gasped and turned his head to the side. His left hand still clutched the pillow, his right clung to his husband’s shoulder. He let his eyes close and bit at his bottom lip to keep from making anymore superfluous noise, his labored breathing was loud enough as is.

“You’re so beautiful.” Fingers stroked his hair again and the viscount couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped, his hips grinding down against the fingers inside him. He opened his eyes and Minho was looking at him as though he were something precious, something special. ‘Like you hung the stars in the sky,’ Hyunjin had said, that’s what this look must be.

“Say it again?” He begged. Minho smiled, and kissed his temple before pulling back only far enough to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful. I wanted to say it the moment I saw you, but it never felt like the right time. Now I can’t keep it to myself, I never want to stop looking at you.” The prince watched for his reaction as he pushed in the third finger.

Jisung arched from the bed, biting down on his lip hard enough that he worried he may break skin as his eyes screwed shut. It didn’t hurt, it wasn’t even uncomfortable, it was however a lot. The praise, the feeling, the knowledge that Minho was the one doing it. He was making it hard to hold back.

“Please, please just put it in. This is enough, I can handle it.” He pleaded, unable to even turn toward his partner.

“Jisung, look at me.” He couldn’t.  
“Jisung.” His scissoring fingers slowed down bit by bit until they were resting still inside. The calm gave him the chance to open his eyes again, he looked out into the empty space beside him while his breath evened out before turning his face back again.  
“I want you to enjoy this, so I’m going to prepare you for as long as it takes. If you don’t last then so be it, I don’t mind, but I wont rush it.”

Han Jisung, no, Lee Jisung was in love. 

He only nodded, trying hard to swallow the tears that threatened to spill. Minho’s hand started moving again, eliciting little moans and pants that Jisung couldn’t keep down. He gripped the pillow tighter and buried his face into it, hoping to muffle the sounds.

“Don’t do that, I want to hear you. I like your voice.” Jisung was very much in love. He released the pillow and allowed whatever noises that came up to just go as they pleased, and Minho still looked at him as though he were something divine. He had wanted to know what Minho was willing to give, and the answer was more than he had thought of. He was starting to feel greedy.

“Ca-can you... kiss me?” He panted, mouth hanging open as he allowed himself to be immersed in the pleasure of his prince’s attention. He dragged the hand on his husband’s shoulder up to cup his cheek, begging the best he could. Minho looked taken aback for a moment and Jisung worried he may have overstepped, but only briefly.

“Oh, God, yes.” He dove and was attacking Jisung’s mouth with fervor. Their first kiss at the altar had been nothing notable, but their second was hungry, dirty, and desperate. Tongues flirted and clashed with each other as the two were held impossibly closer. Minho’s hips began to move seemingly of their own accord, grinding against the back of his hand and further pushing the slick digits into his partner. Jisung was about to burst.

“Are you ready?” The prince pulled back, lips glistening where the moonlight reflected off their saliva. 

“Yes, yes, yes, please.” Jisung continued mumbling pleas while his husband withdrew, making him whine when he was left empty. He returned with his trousers hanging off his thighs, cock in hand and shaft oil slick. He was big, long and thick and oh so perfect. Jisung spread his legs further and fisted the pillow, readying himself for what may come.

“Just relax, and if it hurts just tell me to stop, okay?”

“Okay.” He agreed. The pressure against his hole was slow, and when it penetrated him he saw stars. He could feel it fill him inch by delicious inch as his husband took his time. It wasn’t until he had bottomed out that the viscount realized he’d been holding his breath, he inhaled but what came out was more a moan than a breath. Minho wasn’t moving, just resting inside him as he adjusted to the intrusion.

“Okay?”

“More than okay, so good, so goddamn good.” He sighed and rolled his hips, giving his partner the okay to move. 

Minho wasn’t a rough partner, he wasn’t a demanding one, he wasn’t a selfish one, and he certainly couldn’t be lumped into the same category as the other men Jisung had been with. They didn’t deserve to even have the same title. Jisung has had shitty sexual partners that wanted him for a night, but his husband? His husband was a lover. The smooth glide and friction as he took his time feeling him out to find the perfect angle and covering him in kisses was everything Jisung had ever wanted out of sex and more. There was attention, and then there was affection, he had never thought he could have both, never thought himself deserving of it. Still Minho gave and gave and gave.

“C- hah! Ca-an... mmh... “

“Yes?”

“Never mind, it’s okay.”

“Tell me what you want, please?” Minho tucked his face into the crook of his husband’s neck, his own breath becoming shallow now.

“Can you... “ he was having second thoughts, was it too much?

“Hm?”

“Call me yours?” An especially hard thrust startled a broken moan out of him. Minho’s hands had been tight at his waist but now one was traveling up his side, reaching to pry his left hand from the pillow. The brunette pulled away from his neck and brought his hand to his lips, placing kisses on his wrist, his palm, his ring.

“My beautiful husband. My wonderful, funny, smart, talented husband. I’d do anything for you, my dear.”

“More.” Jisung said, he knew he was fighting a losing battle against the clock, his orgasm creeping up sooner than he’d like. He wanted it to last longer, but he also wanted Minho to keep giving. He didn’t know what felt better but he was greedy in this moment and would try his hardest to take both.

“Have I said how much I love seeing this ring on your finger? Knowing that you’re mine? From the second I lifted that veil and looked in your eyes, I was so happy to have you. My perfect little husband.” His rhythm had been thrown off, hips just thrusting and bucking seeking release. Jisung wrapped his legs around his prince’s waist, encouraging him to continue.

“More, please, more.” Their hands fell together easily, fingers interlocked and fitting oh so perfectly as if they were two puzzle pieces meant to find each other. He was teary-eyed and quivering.

“My beautiful Jisung, you have me wrapped around your little finger.” The hand still on his hip slid around, grabbing his ass possessively.  
“You’re mine, my love.” Love. He feels tight, like at any moment everything is just going to snap. Love.

“Tell me you love me!” He was falling apart, nearly sobbing as his back arched and thighs clamped down on his lover, holding him in place.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you. I love you!” With each proclamation he thrust deeper, unable to pull out against the iron grip around him. Jisung could feel him release inside, warmth filling him deeper and deeper as his lover’s hips continued to buck. Minho kissed him again before ramping up the pace, the erotic, wet slapping of their bodies echoing in the room. Jisung arched back one last time and went rigid, every muscle drawn taught as he shot up across his stomach.

He felt full, he felt fulfilled, he felt exhausted.

———-

Jisung couldn’t recall falling asleep, but he awoke to the sunshine, warm and blinding as he blinked slowly into consciousness. His mind was hazily filling in blanks as he glanced about the room around him, physical sensations taking slightly longer to register. The warmth he’d felt wasn’t just the sunlight on his skin, but his husband wrapped around him, pressed tight to his back. He could feel every contour of bare skin molding against his own, from the leg hooked between his to the arms looped around his waist.

Jisung turned his head to try and view the sleeping prince, but all he saw was waves of brown hair burrowed into his shoulder. The viscount puts a hand over the one resting against his abs and lifts it gently as he carefully rearranges their legs. When they’re no longer entangled he turns over to face the man beside him, admiring the absolute peace on his face. With golden light illuminating his face Jisung was sure that this man must be an angel.

He reached a hand out toward his husband’s face, but pulled back, not wanting to disturb his slumber. They lay silent in the calm of early morning, Jisung committing every little line, curve, and freckle on his lover’s face to memory. He was perfection incarnate, how had he been so lucky? His parents were right, fate must surely favor them for him to be wed to someone so amazing as Lee Minho. And Minho... got Jisung. 

The prince began to stir, arms reaching out to reestablish his hold on his spouse with renewed strength. 

“Morning.” He mumbled tiredly, eyes still closed while he scoot himself closer.

“Good morning,” Jisung combed hesitant fingers through soft brown locks, pausing when his husband at last opened his eyes.  
“I really enjoyed last night.” It was a phrase he’d said many times before, but he had never meant it so genuinely as he did in this moment. If anything he felt he should have said more, ‘enjoyed’ was an understatement.

“I did too. How are you feeling?” Minho’s hand began to idly trace circles into Jisung’s hip. Surprisingly, he felt great. Sure his back and hips were a bit sore, but it wasn’t unpleasant by any means, it was more than a fair trade for the experience of being made love to. He shivered as the thought occurred to him. For the first time ever, he wasn’t fucked like a court whore, he got to make love.

“I feel amazing.” He smiled, hand coming to rest on his husband’s neck, thumb stroking his bottom lip. Minho smiled back and removed the hand, giving a quick kiss to the back of it before leaning forward to kiss his spouse on the lips. It wasn’t like the heated, sloppy, depraved kisses they’d shared last night, it was gentle, quick, and sweet.

“I’m glad.”

A knock on the door startled the pair from their enamored little bubble, turning their heads toward the doorway.

“Lord Han?” A familiar voice called through the thick wooden panel.

“Yes, Felix?” He sat up, adjusting the sheets around himself to hide his still bare lower half. Minho still lay down, adjusting his arms to wrap around the viscount’s trim waist, unbothered as the door creaked open. Felix kept his eyes down as he slid into the room, knowing smile ever present on his face. 

“Don’t mind me, just here to draw the bath.” He skirted around the room toward the closed bathroom door and disappeared inside, the sound of water soon following. 

Jisung hadn’t even thought about that, he always bathed the morning after to wash away the evidence of another horrid night. He couldn’t think of it as washing Minho away though, he was different. Come to think of it... he didn’t feel anything to wash away. He rubbed his thighs together, rocked a bit, looked down at himself, there was nothing on him. Nothing was sticky or dried on his skin, it was like nothing had happened. Looking around he spotted a towel on the floor that he was certain hadn’t been there last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Did you... clean me up?” He whispered in case his attendant decided to be nosy, which he was known to do.

“Of course, it would be disgusting not to.” Disgusting, yeah, it sure was. Jisung had allowed other men to leave him filthy and used time and again, what did that make him?

“Thank you.” He pet his husband’s hair.

“Mhm,” Minho kissed the divot of his hip then set his head in his lap.  
“I love you.” 

“Your bath is ready, Lord Han,” Felix emerged again, eyes still down turned as he hustled toward the door.  
“I will send Hyunjin for you before breakfast.”

“Thank you, Felix.” A bow, a grin, and he was gone. Jisung pulled the covers aside, but was stopped short by the weight of Minho still wrapped around his midsection.

“I have to get in the bath before it gets cold.” He laughed, ruffling the prince’s hair as he continued to pull away from him.

“Can I join you then?” His hold only tightened, refusing to let go. Jisung was going to have a heart attack, he couldn’t go five minutes without his husband doing something to send him into a fit.

“Yes.” He squeaked out as warmth spread up his cheeks, his face likely tomato red by this point.

Jisung wasn’t sure this was a good idea anymore. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror and saw he was still made up from the day before he realized Minho was about to see ‘my beautiful husband’ washed away and be left with just plain Jisung. Disgusting, used, not-special, plain Jisung. 

He could hear the water splashing in the tub behind him as he took a towel in hand. He stared at it far too long before finally wetting it, then stared at it again.

“What’s taking you so long? Hurry up and join me.” The prince called from the tub, enjoying the hot water and scent of the oils Felix had added. 

“Sorry, I’ll be right over.” Jisung replied, looking over at where his husband was reclined against the back of the tub, eyes closed and oh so at ease. It was unfair how he was so effortlessly stunning. He looked back at the towel one last time and sighed before putting it over his face, working off the stubborn kohl and rouge that had been so artfully painted on. When his face was bare and the towel stained an array of black, grey, red, and pink he turned and approached the tub.

Minho was still relaxed in the water, eyes shut. His legs were open and bent, a space obviously left for his beautiful husband to sit. The viscount stepped in to join him, facing away from his spouse and keeping a fair distance between. The water felt wonderful, the scent was comforting, but his mind was far too uneasy to enjoy it. What would he do if the prince saw him and deemed him just as common as he felt? Would he ever touch him again? Would he take back everything he said? Retract his ‘I love you’s? 

“Why are you so far away?” The water rippled and splashed behind him as the prince came closer, enclosing him in his strong arms and settling his face in the nook between his neck and shoulder. Jisung looked the other way. He felt like he was suffocating, the thought of having everything just for it to be taken away again sent him spiraling into the loneliest corners of his mind. If he had been turned away last night it would have hurt but he could take it. How could he go back now though after being so lovingly pleasured and cared for? He was now dead set on preparing himself for the worst case, convinced there was no other outcome. Because everything he was was beneath Minho.

“Hm? Jisung?” Minho tried to turn his face, he shook his hand off, avoiding concerned eyes.  
“Did I do something wrong?” He shook his head, the lump in his throat only growing with each troubled word from his prince.  
“Jisung, please, if I did something you need to tell me.” He tried again to meet his eyes, failing as he had before. Jisung could feel the tears on his face, the trembling of his breath, he must look a mess.   
“Jisung... is it about last night?” He shook his head.  
“It is though, isn’t it?” 

Minho backed away, leaving a space between them that felt cosmic as opposed to just a few inches.

“You forced yourself to do it, didn’t you? Because you thought that’s what I wanted. Is that it?” The viscount could only shake his head again, words refusing to pass his lips when he couldn’t even get air.   
“What else could it be then, Jisung? Tell me what I did.” 

“Y-y-you-“ he couldn’t get anything out. ‘You didn’t do anything’ he wanted to say, but his stupid mouth decided now was the time it decided to stay quiet. 

“I’m so sorry, Jisung, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He sobbed harder if possible. That’s the very last thing he wanted. Minho shouldn’t be apologizing, he did nothing wrong, but he couldn’t get the fucking words out to tell him that.

“I-I-” heavy gasping,   
“I’m-“ more attempts to collect himself to no avail.

“Breathe, please, breathe. Calm down, it’s okay, breathe.” Minho was trying to stay calm for the sake of the broken man in front of him but his voice betrayed just how much he was starting to panic too. He leaned forward to try and view his face, a hand reflexively reaching to comfort him, but he pulled back.  
“Can I touch you Jisung? Is that okay?” He kept his voice low, hoping to deescalate this. The viscount nodded frantically with his face buried in his hands.

Minho kept the space between them and rubbed his back to hopefully calm him enough for him to breath. It hurt him to see Jisung so devastated, but he didn’t know what he could do, the damage was done. His husband eventually found his lungs, the worrisome gasping tapering out to more manageable tears and sniffles.

“I-I’m s-orry,” he forced out. 

“No, I’m sorry. You felt obligated and I didn’t think to-“

“No! I d-didn’t-“ he started huffing again.  
“You were wonderful, you ARE wonderful, and I-I-I-“ Minho shifted around to meet his eyes, his heart aching at just how distraught he looked, eyes and face bright red and mouth flapping helplessly to try and form words. When they made eye contact Jisung went from distraught to defeated, face downturning to avoid his gaze.

“Look at me? Please?” He kept his voice soft and massaged his shoulder. Jisung wiped at his eyes and attempted to steady himself with a few more broken inhales. He couldn’t catch his breath, but he did turn around. They faced each other now, but Jisung still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I wanted it, I r-really wanted it, a-and I still do, but, b-but,” he wiped his eyes again.  
“You are so good to me, and I don’t deserve it, and you’re going to realize I’m just a disgusting, used whore and not the pe-perfect, beautiful husband you want. No one’s ever been so good to me and I just don’t know what I’ll do when you push me away.” He brought his hands up again to cover his face, and Minho was on him in an instant.

He held him tight, pulling the sobbing man into his lap and assuring him that everything was okay while he got everything out of his system. He held on to the prince like a lifeline, burying himself into his shoulder. They sat there until their hot bath had gone lukewarm and Jisung’s ragged breathing evened out.

“Look at me, love. I need you to look at me.” Minho leaned back and had to fight with the hold on him to finally look his husband in the eye.  
“You are not disgusting, Jisung, and you’re not a whore.”

“Yes, I am! I’ve let so many people do horrible things to me and if you knew-“

“I don’t need to know, I don’t care. You have a past, as many people do. That doesn’t make you those things.”

“But you, y-you want perfect and beautiful, a-and-“

“And talented, and smart, and funny, and wonderful, and everything you are. I want to hear you sing those songs you wrote that you’re so proud of, and hear what you think after you read the books I told you about. I want to show you how to properly dance and watch how you blush every time I say I love you, and I’ll say it every day. One hundred times a day if that’s what it takes. I didn’t fall for some idea I made up, Jisung, I love my anxious, clumsy husband, and everything that comes with you. Including this.”

Minho wiped a tear away with his thumb and kept his hand there, cradling the soft cheek.

“Even after all that crying you’re still beautiful.” He smirked a bit, hoping to lighten the mood with a quip. It worked, because Jisung smiled. It was small, but it was there.  
“I told you I’d do anything for you, just ask; if you need me to tell you how much I adore you I will, just say so.” His husband nodded, pout still affixed to his face. Minho couldn’t help himself, he kissed him.  
“I love you.” He murmured against his lips.

Jisung wrapped himself around the prince with a crushing hold, relieved despite the ghost of self-doubt lurking over his shoulder.

“The water’s gone cold, we should get out now.” The prince says, urging them to relocate.

Minho would hardly let Jisung do a damn thing himself, he dried his hair, brushed it, toweled him off, and even helped him dress, laying soft kisses to his skin before covering it. Jisung was used to people doing things for him, it came with wealth, but it felt so different to have someone so far above his rank pampering him. It made him feel suddenly shy, insisting he could do these things himself with flaming red cheeks. Minho refused with a smile and continued.

“Jisung, can I ask you something?” The prince asked as his husband sat before the vanity to await Hyunjin’s arrival.

“Of course.” He assured, their eyes meeting in the reflection. Minho came to stand behind his spouse, hands laying comfortably on his chest while a thumb traced below his throat.

“I mean, can I ask you for something?”

“Of course, anything.” He placed his hands over his husbands and leaned back against him.

“It may sound selfish.”

“Even if it does, I’ll still be happy to do something for you. Anything.” Minho slid his hands up, tilting Jisung’s chin upward to have him look at him directly.

“I love you Jisung, I really do, in just the short time we’ve known each other I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, and I’m excited to spend the rest of our lives together. You are my fairytale ending, and all it needs to be perfect... “

“Yes?” Jisung gave his hands a squeeze to encourage him on.

“I want to hear you say you love me too. Even if it’s just once, even if you don’t entirely mean it right now, could you do that for me?” 

Jisung turned toward the prince, whom crouched to see him eye-to-eye and await a response. The viscount took his face in is hands, that same adorable pout on his face.

“Of course I love you. After everything you couldn’t possibly think I don’t?”

“Thinking and knowing are two different things, and I can only know what you tell me.”

“I love you, I do mean it, and I wont say it just once. Damnit you wont be able to make me stop saying it now.” He smothered his husband’s face in kisses, each followed by a quick ‘I love you.’ Minho laughed and feigned embarrassment, but they knew he loved it. A knock on the door interrupted their moment for the second time that morning.

“Lord Han? May I come in?” Jisung gave a dramatic groan, loud enough for Hyunjin to hear from the other side of the door.

“You may.” The door opened and Hyunjin gave a big smile and bow to the lord and prince.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?”

“Fantastic.” Jisung grinned and gave his husband a quick kiss on the lips before turning back around to the mirror. Hyunjin took his place and began his work.

“Why are you getting all made up?” Minho asked, eyes glued to the mirror.

“I just want to look my best.” 

“I thought you already looked your best.” 

“Yesterday?”

“Just now.”

Oh, Lee Jisung was so very in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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